


Fear and Comfort

by gothamstodd



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Good Older Sibling Dick Grayson, Happy Ending, Hurt Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jason Todd Feels, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd Whump, Jason Todd is Robin, Jason Todd-centric, Kidnapping, Latino Jason Todd, Romani Dick Grayson, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU), Torture, Whump, additional warnings in some chapters, in flashbacks/visions, it's p crazy but
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-26 01:55:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30098532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothamstodd/pseuds/gothamstodd
Summary: Jason stared ahead of himself at the group of Scarecrow’s goons closing in on him. A half circle of brown leather-clad figures, tightening, shifting around him. He had been stupid. He stumbled backward, feeling the cold solid of a concrete wall behind him. He shouldn’t have come alone.-Scarecrow kidnaps and tortures Robin Jason.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all like this! I needed more Jason hurt/comfort in the world lol. this is def the longest thing I've ever written so tell me if it sucks haha. I'll try to keep an update schedule of tuesdays at roughly 10pm MST. let me know what you thought!! and be sure to check the warnings/tags!

Jason stared ahead of himself at the group of Scarecrow’s goons closing in on him. A half circle of brown leather-clad figures, tightening, shifting around him. _He had been stupid. H_ e stumbled backward, feeling the cold solid of a concrete wall behind him. _He shouldn’t have come alone._ He looked between menacing faces, his breath quickening.

“Boss would love to have a chance to chat with Boy Wonder, don’t you agree?” A woman spoke up, wiping sweat from her forehead with a leather-sleeved arm as she looked to her compatriots. Jason could see a sickly smile beneath the hole in her burlap mask.

“Are you stupid?” A man shot back at her, throwing an arm across her chest before she could advance toward Jason. “If the kid’s here, Bats is around the corner.”

A spur of cockiness seemed to spark Jason’s mouth at just the wrong moment, “I don’t need him to kick your asses.” He snapped, fists clenching in his gloves. Regret pooled immediately in his gut. He pressed his finger to his ear, swallowing his pride as he pushed on his com. His eyes widened when no familiar static-altered voice came through.

Jeering laughter erupted around him. The group of fifteen or so stepped closer, a feeling of claustrophobia falling hard on Jason’s chest.

“That’s not going to work in here, Birdy.” Someone held up a jammer control, waving it tauntingly. If that had worked on his com, it would have no trouble with his tracker.

A wicked smile crossed the face of the man who had spoken before, “Never mind then.” His arm dropped from blocking the woman, “I guess Daddy’s not here to save you.”

Color drained from Jason’s face. As if it were a wet, bloody string being dragged agonizingly up from his stomach and through his throat, Jason gagged on fear.

The first punch landed hard at his side, he’d done nothing to block it, frozen by dread. He choked on his breath, instinctively moving to block and dodge further blows. He felt tears pricking at his eyes, his chest tightening. Panic filled him as he convinced himself he was going to be beaten to death here. With each hit he avoided, two more landed. His knees hit the concrete below hard, the thick fabric of his pants scuffing with the impact. His resistance became erratic, illogical.

“ _Focus. You’re not going to live if you panic._ ” Batman’s voice resonated low in the back of his head. Jason looked up- faces, fists, the butts of guns, swimming above him.

“ _Calculate._ ” The voice ordered, “ _Organize._ ”

The black tread of a boot slammed hard into his nose, blood pouring immediately down his face. Each attempt to get up was met with a kick throwing him back to the ground. He felt nausea raging in his stomach, pain pulsating to numbness across his body. There was no escape. He was trapped. Pinned between a concrete wall and 15 henchmen. Practically dead.

Helpless, he stilled, feebly pulling an arm over his head in mediocre defense. The pounding attacks slowed, noticing his lack of resistance, retreating. Still, everyone needed a chance to land their kick on the endlessly obstruent Boy Wonder.

“What’s going on here?” A familiar voice echoed in the warehouse, terrifying simply in implication of what it always preceded. Scarecrow.

The hits stopped coming, frozen by a silent order from their superior. Though fresh fear stung Jason’s veins, he worked to calm himself. His body pounded with agony, he focused on each painful breath as the voices of Scarecrow and his henchmen hazed around him. He found himself staring as footfalls passed back and forth across his vision. Focus shifted in and out, each shift out making the thought of shutting his eyes more appealing.

Bruce’s voice was ordering him to make his escape, claw his way to the door while they weren’t looking, but blackness was closing in. His head was not only throbbing, but now felt as though someone were squeezing gradually harder at his temples. Though Jason knew he lay still, he watched the world tilt violently, spinning and blurring and making nausea run up his esophagus until finally, it flipped into darkness.

-

Jason woke to the sensation of his arms being pulled roughly behind his back, around the sides of what felt like an aluminum chair. His shoulders protested the sensation, pain screaming through his battered joints. A rough binding rope was pulled taught around his wrists. It was either that he hadn’t been out for more than a few minutes or they’d been stupid enough to leave him unbound for longer.

 _Not stupid enough to leave him with his gloves and boots,_ he noticed. The brown leather figure of a henchman came into view at his knee, harsh fingers wrapping his ankle to bind it to the chair.

He kicked hard, the contact of even his bare foot to the man’s chest made him fall back, sputtering and coughing. “-little shit.” He rasped, getting to his feet and drawing his gun. Jason flinched away, but the cold metal struck his forehead hard. He grunted, the sensation of something hot and wet trickling down to his brow. The henchman took his moment of reaction as an opportunity to tie his ankle down.

Jason struggled hard against the rope, his free foot kicking into the empty air in front of him, muscles aching at the movement. As often as Batman had told him, in the event of capture, “ _avoid further injury,_ ” “ _stall,_ ” and “ _don’t get killed,_ ” Jason found himself ignoring the orders. His mind screamed for anything but to go down easy, anything but to let them tie him down without a fight.

He cried out as pain exploded from his ankle, the clatter of metal on concrete joining his grunts and heavy breaths of pain. The world was tilting again, lurching wildly in front of him. He watched a metal crowbar fall to the seesawing floor, now spattered with his blood, having been dropped after the henchman’s last-ditch effort to put down Jason’s resistance. It worked, and Jason yelled again as his fractured ankle was pulled roughly to the leg of the chair and tied to it.

“Ah, Robin.” A sickeningly cold and aloof voice reached his ears through stubborn ringing.

“Scarecrow.” Jason tried to growl back, but heard only a sluggish gurgle in response.

“It’s lovely to see you.” Crane replied, stepping toward Jason from his place by the door. The world seemed to settle itself, the violent swinging lessening to a half-hearted sway. “I’ve actually been looking for someone to test my new toxin on, I’m running low on expendable goons.”

Jason’s heart pounded in his chest. Batman had never let him close enough to Scarecrow’s fear toxin to feel its effects but Jason had seen people under its thrall. Screaming, clawing at their own skin, writhing, and screeching. He’d seen people’s hearts give out because of it.

His burlap mask inches from Jason’s face, Scarecrow leaned in, his withered finger lifting Jason’s chin to force him to meet his eyes, “Tell me Robin, what are you afraid of?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little back story here!! let me know what you think! :))

They had been sitting on this warehouse for weeks. Jason sat impatiently in the passenger seat of the batmobile, Bruce at his left, taking careful notes with binoculars trained on the entrance.

“Can’t we just go for it?” Jason asked finally, he leaned over to push playfully on Bruce’s shoulder, “We got this.”

Bruce bristled, the stress of the case and lack of sleep pulling irritability into his features. “No.” He said simply, not turning to look at his Robin. Jason groaned audibly, slumping in his seat. “If you can’t handle a stakeout, I’m happy to take you home.” Bruce warned in a measured tone.

“C’mon B.” Jason complained, “I just want some action, if we’re gonna go home you should at least get some sleep.”

“ _We’re_ not going home.” Bruce said, finally glancing at Jason, “ _You_ might be.”

“What?” Jason exclaimed, teeth clenching in frustration, “You always have to leave me out of shit.”

“Robin, language.” Bruce snapped, never faltering on his ‘no names in the field’ rule.

“Y-” Bruce interrupted before Jason could say anything else, “Stay here.” In a matter of seconds, he had slipped out the car door and disappeared into the shadow of a building.

Annoyed, Jason let his skull fall back into the headrest, his leg bouncing as he searched the darkness outside for any sign of Bruce and whatever he was after. Bruce was only proving Jason’s point, he hadn’t even given a hint as to what he was after or why Jason couldn’t follow. That was the worst of it, that Bruce never had a reason, if he gave any explanation it would be lazy, vague. The easy excuse of ‘You’re not ready.’ always seemed to fall from his tongue so quickly, as though it stood ready in the back of his throat. ‘When will I be?’ was Jason’s just as prepared response. With that, Bruce would always turn away, send him to his room, refuse to continue the discussion. Jason tried the door, falling back into his seat with an irritated sigh when he found that he couldn’t push it open. Bruce knew better than to leave it unlocked.

Several minutes of silence passed before the door swung open and Bruce fell, panting, into his seat, the bottom of his pale nose now smeared with blood.

“What was it?” Jason asked, not hiding the anger in his voice.

I think you should stay out of this one, Robin.” Bruce answered, again, avoiding Jason’s eyes as he pulled the seat belt across his body and clicked it into place.

“Seriously?” Jason growled, while Bruce started the car and pulled quickly onto the road, “Why?”

Bruce sighed, hand pushing away the cowl for half a second to rub away the exhaustion in his face, “Because I said so.”

"Fuck, well I guess that's that then." Jason sneered, throwing in the curse because he knew it would make Bruce stiffen.

He watched Bruce's face warp ever so slightly into a frustrated grimace underneath the cowl, "Jason-"

"You're not my dad." Jason interrupted. "You don't get to tell me what to do."

Bruce slammed his open hand into the steering wheel, his eyes trained on the road, he didn't see Jason flinch next to him, "You should be glad I'm not your father!" Bruce burst out. He waited for the quick sarcastic response, but none came. When he looked toward Jason again, he was turned away, staring out the window.

A few minutes of silence passed. Jason watched packed streets and warmly lit buildings turn to seldom street lights and the blurring shadows of tree trunks. Bruce would’ve much preferred arguing, at least then he would have some idea what Jason was thinking. Even then, it was difficult, he realized.

Pulling into the cave, they were just as silent as they had been half the ride. Jason pushed open the door and slipped out as soon as the vehicle came to a stop. “Jason,” Bruce got out too, shutting the door behind him. Jason was already halfway to the elevator, but he stopped when Bruce said his name, maybe he was hoping for an apology, neither of them could say. Bruce paused for a moment, knowing they should at least talk, “Go to your room, please.”

“I was already on my way.” Jason answered without looking, voice hoarse with what Bruce hoped weren’t tears.

When Jason reached his bedroom, he didn’t take off his Robin suit or take a shower, he only grabbed a cigarette from their place hidden in his bookshelf and lit it before slipping out the window. _He’d show Bruce he was ready,_ he decided.

He was careful to avoid the cameras, stick to the shadows, avert all of Bruce’s security measures. He’d finished his cigarette long before he even made it out of the manor’s yard.

The walk along the road was almost humiliating without a bike or the batmobile, and Jason shivered in the cold breeze. But spite kept him going, anger and hurt fueling what became a jog to the warehouse they had been staking out.

Jason didn’t bother to look in through the windows, they’d already done it what seemed like a thousand times. He didn’t bother to turn on infrared and count the figures inside, _they’d already done it_. He didn’t bother with any of it, he’d only kicked in the door, shurikens ablaze.

_He had been stupid. He shouldn’t have come alone._


End file.
